


Natural Talent

by Eaglefairy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Gender-Neutral My Unit | Byleth, Jeralt is a good dad, Pre-canon (mostly), healthy parent-child relationship, sword prodigy Byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 11:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20226919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eaglefairy/pseuds/Eaglefairy
Summary: Byleth is 10 the first time Jeralt finds them swinging a sword.  What happens next?





	Natural Talent

Byleth is 10 the first time Jeralt finds them swinging a sword.

It’s far past Byleth’s bedtime, and even though Jeralt wishes he were also asleep, he had to get up when he heard Byleth’s little footsteps sneaking past him. He followed his child to the training ring, where Byleth struggled to lift a practice sword that was obviously too heavy for them. That’s when Jeralt stepped into the ring, and Byleth whirled around, ready to give any number of excuses to their father.

Jeralt just raised a hand before Byleth could even speak. “If you want to learn how to use a sword, I’ll teach you,” he said, his eyes glimmering with pride at the eagerness Byleth had to imitate him. “But we’ll do it in the morning, alright? C’mon, let’s head back.” After a moment, Byleth put the sword down and followed Jeralt back to their tent.

In the morning, Jeralt found himself shaken awake by little hands. He turned to the side to see Byleth’s face far too close to his own, and jumped back a little. Byleth just blinked and said, “You said I could use a sword in the morning.”

Jeralt sighed. “I guess I did, huh?” He sat up slowly, thinking about what needed to be done for the day. Thankfully, his mercenaries were between jobs for the time being, which meant that there was plenty of time to teach the kid how to fight. “Head on over to the mess tent, get some breakfast. I’ll be ready soon, then we can start with the swords. Sound good?”

Byleth nodded and left the tent, leaving Jeralt to wonder if he was about to make a bad decision, a wonderful decision, or some horrid combination of the two.

Once Jeralt ate breakfast and downed a few cups of the strongest black tea he could get, he made his way to the training ring, where he could already see Byleth waiting. He found the lightest training sword they had and handed it over, saying, “Try this one, it might work a little better than the one you had last night.”

Byleth grabbed the sword and gave it a few practice swings. Privately, Jeralt was a little impressed at how naturally Byleth stood and held the sword. Maybe he’d ask around later and find out if anyone had been giving the kid tips. For now though, he needed to focus on the lesson at hand.

“That’s pretty good, but you should keep your feet a little farther apart--yep, just like that. And move your grip towards the guard, it’ll give you more control.” As Jeralt said the instructions out loud, he gently corrected Byleth’s position, waiting until they nodded at him to step back and grab his own practice sword. “Now try attacking me.”

Byleth stood still for a second, before lunging forward to strike at Jeralt. He easily blocked the attack, but when he made to strike back, Byleth dodged. This pattern of strikes and dodges went on for a few more seconds before Jeralt was able to tap Byleth with his practice sword. With the first bout over, Byleth backed up and waited for Jeralt to tell them about how they did.

“Well done, kiddo. I like your strategy; hit-and-run is a good move for someone your size. If that’s what you want to do, make sure you don’t overextend yourself on the swings. It’ll leave you open for a return strike and slow down your dodges.” Byleth nodded, accepting the advice, before returning to the ready stance that Jeralt had showed them. 

Asking around for who gave Byleth swordfighting lessons moved up several spots on Jeralt’s list of priorities for the day. Either the kid was a prodigy or someone had already been teaching them. But before he did that, he had a lesson to finish.

After the lesson ended and Jeralt had a chance to investigate, he discovered that Byleth was just prodigiously good at swordfighting. None of the swordsmen and swordswomen Jeralt had asked had taught Byleth anything, so all the talent the kid showed in training was just that: natural talent. The lessons continued, and Byleth became a better swordfighter than any child their age had a right to be.

Byleth’s first real battle happened when they were 12. In Jeralt’s defense, he had told his kid to stay back as he and the rest of the mercenaries took care of the bandits that had attacked them on the road. But then, as Jeralt had finished off one bandit, he turned to see a little form darting in and out of another bandit’s range, cutting a little deeper every time. Jeralt raced over, ending the fight before it could go poorly. He turned to face Byleth, ready to give them a lecture they’d never forget until Jeralt remembered that an active battlefield was not the best place to do so. “We’re talking about this later,” he said, waiting until Byleth acknowledged him to turn and drive off the rest of the bandits.

After the bandits had been forcefully shown why attacking a mercenary group was a poor idea, Jeralt found Byleth standing near the armory, still holding the little sword that Jeralt had commissioned for them.

“When I gave you that sword, I didn’t mean for you to use it so soon.” Byleth looked up at the sound of their father’s voice.

They shrugged and responded, “You’ve been teaching me how to fight, and those bandits weren’t very tough if a 12-year-old could beat them.”

Jeralt had to hold back a laugh at that one. Byleth was right, but he didn’t want to encourage their reckless behavior. “While that may be true, battles can go south faster than you can blink, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Can you promise me--”

“Aw, Jeralt, c’mon!” The sudden interruption came from a swordswoman standing a few feet away. “I was watchin’ the kid, and he was doin’ pretty good for someone his size. If you step up the lessons a bit, I’m sure he could hold his own.” Byleth looked up at her words, silently asking him to listen to her and let them continue with the fighting.

Jeralt was torn. On one hand, he felt responsible for keeping Byleth safe, and knew that battles, even against weak opponents, were anything but safe. But on the other hand, even if he told Byleth no, there was no guarantee that they would actually obey him, as was evidenced by that day’s battle. Jeralt inwardly sighed as he came to a compromise.

He turned back to Byleth and said, “I’ll step up your training a bit, and let you help out in little scuffles, but in return you have to listen to me when I tell you to stay out of a fight. That sound good?” Byleth nodded, a little smile on their face. Jeralt grinned and patted them on the back. “Let’s get you something to eat now, kiddo.”

The rest of the mercenaries didn’t really know what to think of Byleth’s budding sword skills. Their initial amusement gave way to mild confusion as Byleth showed that they were capable of at least keeping up with most of the swordsmen and swordswomen in the company. Eventually, everyone pitched in to help Byleth train, which meant that Byleth’s fighting style became a wild mess of varying techniques. In time, a rite of passage sprang up for all the new recruits: fight Jeralt’s kid. Every recruit who stepped into the arena walked in sure of their ability to defeat a 13-year-old child, and walked out having learned a valuable lesson about overconfidence.

Jeralt waited until Byleth was 14 to allow them to officially join the mercenary crew. He had still wanted to wait longer, but he was outvoted by the other mercenaries and by Byleth, who had been passive-aggressively joining all the battles they could for the past month. The confusion their clients showed when Jeralt explained that Byleth really was a full-fledged member of the mercenary company quickly abated once their skills were displayed. It wasn’t long before Jeralt began hearing whispers about an “Ashen Demon” that accompanied the Blade Breaker wherever he went, a small shadow that was no less deadly than the original. He could only sigh and shake his head, hoping that Byleth didn’t develop too much of an ego from hearing that kind of gossip.

The years passed, and it wasn’t long before Jeralt began to hear his clients specifically request the Ashen Demon. He never got tired of seeing the surprise on their faces when the stuffy nobles saw that the renowned swordfighter they had requested was a teenager, and seeing that surprise redoubled when Byleth proved their skills over and over. He should’ve expected to end up back at Garreg Mach after all these years, knowing Rhea’s penchant for keeping hold of people, but he still couldn’t completely hold back his displeasure at the current situation. At least there was a whole new crowd of people to be shocked by Byleth’s sword skills; they had mentioned missing that look of bewildered respect that always appeared after they bested an opponent when they were younger.

When Byleth casually mentioned that some of the students at the Officers’ Academy wanted to see how they fought, Jeralt knew that it was an invitation to relive the days of a much younger Byleth surprising everyone present by beating the tar out of people twice their size. He made his way down to the training grounds, seeing Byleth already facing a young blue-haired man he didn’t know the name of. Thunder Catherine herself was overseeing the battle; she probably wanted to judge Byleth’s sword skills herself as well. Jeralt settled back into his seat, a grin sneaking its way onto his face despite his best efforts, and awaited the show.

“Begin!” cried Catherine, and the blue-haired boy charged at Byleth. Byleth dodged backward, and the fight was on. As he watched, Jeralt could identify who had taught Byleth each maneuver: the two-part slice had come from Marcy, a senior swordswoman; that twirl and stab was probably from a Brigidian assassin they had spent a few weeks working with. The other kid put up a good fight, but was no match for 11 years of Byleth’s training, and the match was over long before anyone except Jeralt and Byleth expected it to be.  
Stunned silence reigned over the training grounds, the match over so quickly no one had even thought to clap for the winner yet. It broke only when Byleth reached out a hand to pull the other boy up from the ground. A girl in the front row asked, “How were you doing that?”, clearly interested in learning more. Other students crowded in with their own questions, but Jeralt’s laughter rose above them all. 

He stood up and walked towards where Byleth was standing, shaking his head and saying, “You’ve gotten sloppy, kid. I remember you taking out that huge brawler guy in 30 seconds flat, but this one almost took you 40.”

Byleth chuckled, responding, “In my defense, I think I was so small back then he could barely see me from up there. Felix could actually track what I was doing, that’s why it took me longer.”

Felix suddenly asked, “How did you learn to fight like that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.” Byleth was about to respond, but Jeralt beat him to the punch.

“Oh, they picked up all sorts of things from all sorts of people. But most of it’s just plain talent. I remember when they were 12, and we were attacked by a group of bandits…”

“Jeralt, please no…” Byleth desperately tried to get their father to stop telling the story, knowing that he’d just continue on with all the other embarrassing moments of their childhood, but Jeralt could not be stopped.

“I finish off this one guy, then I turn around and who do I see fighting the leader? Little 12-year-old Byleth!”

“No, you’re exaggerating, it wasn’t the leader…”

Catherine interrupted with a wicked smile, saying, “Well, now I’m invested in this story. How’d it turn out, Jeralt?”

Byleth groaned as their father went on to happily tell of all of Byleth’s childhood exploits to the assembled crowd of students and faculty, and wondered if they could slip away without regretting it later.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! This is the first fic I've ever written, so I'd welcome feedback and positive criticism. I got this idea from someone on the Fodlan Church of Thirst and Tears Discord, who wanted more interaction between Jeralt and Byleth, and also offhandedly mentioned an idea about little Byleth being terrifyingly good at swordfighting. I think it turned out pretty well, for being written entirely at night and being proofread once. I'm sorry if anyone's horribly OOC, I don't have the best handle on Jeralt yet (though Byleth's pretty easy to write.)


End file.
